


Going, Going, Gone

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tara isn't very forgiving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going, Going, Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UbiquitousMixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/gifts).



Tara isn't very forgiving anymore.

 

She shows her complete and total lack of compassion by slamming Gemma up against the fridge, giving no acknowledgement to the whimpering grunt that is more pleasure than pain before she practically rips Gemma's shirt right off.

 

Magnets go flying across the floor and Tara makes a mental note to replace them. The last time they did this, they lost A, B and T. Right before she palms Gemma's breasts and squeezes them. Not enough to really hurt, but enough for her to feel it. To feel who's really in charge here. 

 

Gemma arches her back and pushes her hips forward. Tara pushes her harder and slips her thigh between her legs, grinding her knee up against her crotch, making sure she can feel it through the thick denim. Gemma moans and grabs handfuls of Tara's hair, grinding in counter motion as she licks the roof of her daughter in law's mouth.

 

It's the middle of the day and Tara really needs to get back to the hospital, so she tears her mouth away and licks her way down, Gemma's heavy panting clear and stark in her ear as she traces the scar between her breasts with her tongue, and then roughly pulls Gemma's jeans all the way down, as far as they'll go before her stupid fucking boots get in the way. It doesn't matter anyway, they'll never get to the bed. There's no time.

 

Tara kisses her way back up Gemma's body, biting her thigh then burying her face between her legs, giving no warning before slipping her tongue inside her and giving no warning before depriving her of it. 

 

"Please, baby." Gemma begs. And god damn her, because she knows how Tara loves to hear her beg.

 

She punishes her with a bruising kiss then bites her lip, in case she didn't get that she needs to shut up. Gemma moans and then gasps when she finds herself with her wrists pinned above her head.

 

Knowing better than to disobey--after all, the fun of being punished is only worth it when they have the time to do it right--she grabs hold of the fridge and holds onto Tara's smoldering gaze before a vengeful hand pushes its way between her legs and three fingers are pushed inside her.

 

She tries to keep it to herself, she really does, but as much as she would like to keep quiet, a drawn out "Fuck," escapes her through gritted teeth before she's a lost cause. 

 

  
_Tara isn't very forgiving anymore._  

 

She's knuckle deep in Gemma Teller-Morrow, there are the most torturous sounds in her ear, of moaning and grunting and Tara wants more. So she fucks Gemma harder, until she's so wet she can feel it trickling down her palm. _So much for menopause_. Gemma hisses and rubs herself against Tara's hand, helping her clit to some much needed attention. 

 

Tara is painfully wet now and she pumps her hand faster, because Gemma tightens her grip over the edge of the fridge and she bites her lip until Tara can't stand the sight of it. She has to go harder, the way Gemma likes it, until her head is practically being slammed back against the surface and she's crying out more obscenities than she's ever heard her say. And for Gemma--that's saying a lot.

 

"Fuck, Gemma..." Tara mumbles into her shoulder.

 

"It feels...so good, baby, keep going..."

 

"Shit--" Tara curses again and then finds Gemma's mouth. It's not that she hates hearing her talk--it's just that she's been thinking about this all morning and she really needs to get Gemma off before her lunch break is over. And then Gemma is coming around Tara's fingers, trembling and moaning, and jerking her hips forward, drawing in Tara's digits until she can't move and sinks to the floor, Tara right along with her.

 

It isn't long before Tara's plans to keep her clothes on are slightly changed. Her scrubs are gone, lost somewhere under the kitchen table, and she's rubbing her cunt against Gemma's, hard and fast, with only the purpose of getting herself off. But when she looks down at the other woman, back flat on the floor, hair fanned out, cheeks red and bottom lip between her teeth, Tara sees that Gemma is loving this.

 

She likes being taken like this, Gemma. Tara thinks that she really just likes watching her completely lose her shit once she's past a certain point. Either way, Tara now knows the best way to keep her under control when she's being a complete bitch, which is most of the time.

 

She falls forward, her palm making a loud slapping sound against the tile as fights to hold back the helpless moaning that comes with the orgasm that's fast approaching.

 

Gemma is talking, telling Tara in between heavy breathing to let go, that she wants to see her come. She lifts her head and wraps her mouth around Tara's nipple, licking and sucking through the shirt they never bothered to take off.

 

It's over. It's all over and Tara comes, hard. She falls like a sheet over Gemma's sweat slick body, panting and tired, but contentedly sated. It isn't until she's herself again that she realizes that Gemma's come a second time along with her and this makes her laugh.

 

"What?" Gemma asks, her voice cool and leveled, as  if she hadn't just been fucked motionless.

 

"Nothing, I have to go." Tara replies without moving.

 

"Okay, then go." Gemma replies and sighs as if she really doesn't give a shit whether Tara stays or goes. And she probably doesn't.

 

"You're a bitch..." Tara says, making it sound, for all intents and purposes like a term of endearment.

 

"Well, we know our own, don't we." Gemma says smartly and then casually slides out from under Tara to pull her jeans up into place.

 

While Tara dresses and watches Gemma put herself back together, she shakes her head and rolls her eyes while she isn't looking. It's too ironic to even say it, so she grabs Gemma by the waist and pulls her in for a kiss that tells her that yes, they do know their own, and yes, their lives are more fucked up than anyone will ever guess, but it's the only way Tara will have it now. Because Gemma is too good for Clay and maybe Tara _is_ too good for Jax. 

 

Gemma seems surprised by the gesture, but she smiles anyway and sends Tara back to the hospital with a casual "Bye, baby. Have a good day."

 

And Tara does.

 

********

 


End file.
